The Remedy
by Cold-Zephyr
Summary: A misguided one night stand can turn things awkward between Christy Hemme and Jeff Hardy, but is the possibility for true love entirely out of the question? They don't seem to think so. ChristyJeff, RavenAshley
1. Florida Invasion

**The Remedy**

_By Cold-Zephyr_

_Starring:_ Christy Hemme, Jeff Hardy, Ashley Massaro, Scott Levy a.k.a. Raven

_Also Featuring:_ Jay Reso a.k.a. Christian Cage, Jackie Gayda, Matt Hardy, others to be announced

_Summary:_ Christy now works for TNA and is currently in a love angle with Raven. Her world is turned upside down when she meets a beautiful stranger on the job. Will he be the one to finally tame this wild girl?

_Disclaimer:_ I am neither Vince McMahon nor Jeff Jarrett. I own squat and lots of it.

_Rating:_ It walks the line between PG-13 and R-18

_Genre:_ Romance/Humor (and tiny specks of drama here and there)

_Really Long Author's Notes...Reading Optional:_ I'm back, baby! After 2 years of writer's block (especially since my beloved muse Jericho has decided to quit sniffle), I have finally returned to with new material. I've read lots of Harlequin Mills-Boon romances (guilty pleasure, heh) and some bestsellers like "Confessions of a Shopaholic" since I took a hiatus, so that and the rumors of Christy moving to TNA to play Raven's girlfriend have fueled my creativity in a _huge_ way!

"The Remedy" is, I think, the most mature and (hopefully) realistic fanfic I've done, since the characters, being adults, now openly discuss the topic of sex (unlike in my last fic, "They Stuck Me With You", where it was avoided completely), but there are no actual sex scenes here. It's an amalgamation of a lot of sources of inspiration, including the fic "Win A Date With Trish Stratus" by Crimson Coin (it's on my favorites list), an episode of _Average Joe: Hawaii_, the movies _Hitch_ and _The 40-Year-Old Virgin_, the rock musical-turned-movie _Rent, _and the Harlequin Mills-Boon novel "Unzipped" by Karen Kendall. I also got a lot of the facts used here from Wikipedia.

I hope you'll forgive my weird pairings (and the May-December-ness of Raven and Ashley). I'm an "anything goes" kind of writer. LOL!

-o-

**Chapter 1: Florida Invasion (Christy's POV)**

Honestly, what girl _doesn't _love the wind in her hair?

I'm gonna miss the wind in my hair during WWE photo shoots alright, but there's nothing like driving down the road at full speed with the top down and Aerosmith blaring on the radio. The view is amazing: there's an orange sunset to the west, and I'm riding on a dusty road with my best friend behind the wheel of a sleek black BMW.

"Get ready, Florida, 'cause Christy Hemme is taking over!" my blonde companion yelled into the wind as we crossed the border.

"Watch that wheel, Ashley, I at least want to make it there alive."

She pouted as she focused on the road ahead. I could barely contain my own glee. "Ash..."

"Yep?"

"This is so surreal...I'm in Florida! HELLO FLORIDA, I LOVE YOU! WOOOHOOO!"

Sunlight in our faces, we laughed all the way to Orlando where we had rented an apartment. In times like these, it's great to have a best friend like mine. When she found out I was fired, it took me all my convincing power to stop Ash from quitting the WWE herself, but I was utterly grateful when she agreed to move to Orlando with me.

"Wow," she said as we opened the door to our new apartment. She ran to the window. "This is one amazing view!"

"And a place would make Donald Trump squirm with envy," I added. "So what are you doing tomorrow, my dear roomie?"

She looked around at the pristine white walls and the well-polished wooden floor. "That's for me to know and for you to find out. Let's start with tonight's plans. Feel like bar-hopping?"

-o-

"I know it can be tiring to have twenty guys hitting on you every time you walk into a bar, Ash, but girl, you really know how to beat them off with a stick."

She let out a snort. "Well, the drunk guy begging us for a three-way was totally the last straw."

A waiter walked up to us with two cosmopolitans. "Ladies, from the man at the corner table."

We whipped our heads around at the same time (our friends think it's cute how we flip our hair the same way) and my eyes feasted on a muscular, rugged, rebel-type guy smiling at us. His dark blonde hair was in a loose ponytail, there was a bit of stubble on his face, and he was wearing faded jeans. Sexy, in a dark, angsty kind of way.

Not my type at all, but Ashley always fell for bad boys.

"Oh. My. God." Ashley's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"He's hot, Ash. I _know_."

"Yeah," she said, "Christy, that's the guy I saw outside our window!"

...Huh? "Oh, was _that_ what you meant by 'amazing view'?" It was awfully hard to suppress my laughter at this point. Hey, even Ashley Massaro can lose control over a guy sometimes.

"Well, he was bending over to change his tires," she admitted, shrugging.

Dirty mental images, dirty mental images..."Guess I can't blame you. Shall we?"

He grinned up at us as we made our way to his table. "Hey there."

"Hi," my best friend gushed. "I'm Ashley, and this is Christy."

"Have a seat, ladies," he said, motioning to either side of him. "Name's Scott, but everyone calls me Raven."

Raven?

_"I can't thank you enough for this opportunity, Mr. Jarrett."_

_"No prob, Christy. TNA is more than happy to have you working for us." He smiled warmly from behind his desk. It kind of startled me how nice he was, actually; having seen a couple of episodes of TNA myself, I could've sworn beforehand that he would hit me with the wrong end of a guitar if I said the wrong thing. "Your first storyline, Christy, is as a girlfriend to one of our top stars, Raven. Okay?"_

_"Absolutely, Mr. Jarrett. But who's Raven?"_

_My new boss stared wide-eyed at my question._ (I later found out that that was not the best way to start things off in a new company.)

A light bulb went off in my head. "Oh, so _you're_ my boyfriend!"

They both looked wide-eyed at me. Ash nearly spat out her drink (her third or fourth scotch). "What?"

"No, I mean, for the new storyline," I added quickly. "Jeff Jarrett said I'll be playing your girlfriend."

"Oh," said Raven, and that easygoing smile was back on his face. "Sounds like fun, Christy."

Just then, a group of guys joined us at the table. There were three of them: one was lean but toned (and really cute), one was big, with a goatee, and a third one, tan and very muscular, looked significantly younger than the other two.

"Fellas!"

Raven stood up and introduced them to us. "These fine ladies are Christy and Ashley. Girls, I want you to meet my buddies Jay, a.k.a. Christian Cage, Mark, a.k.a. Bubba Ray Dudley, and A.J. Styles."

"Hello, ladies." The cutest one of the three smirked down at us. "You're looking at the champ right here." I laughed at his oddly endearing casual arrogance.

"Doob," I saw the youngest one grunt as he elbowed Christian. "Hi, I'm A.J."

"Beer for everyone!" the big guy yelled across the room. "And it's all on me!" he said, causing the bar to erupt in "Bubba! Bubba!" chants.

I hung around for about five more minutes before getting up. "It's been great, people, but I don't wanna show up drunk on the first day of the job, so I'll just see you all tomorrow. Have fun, y'all." God, I am sooo not used to being the party pooper. I am never, ever the one to leave the bar first. Of course, I've got to set my priorities straight if I want to impress Mr. Jarrett.

"Aww...you're leaving now?" Ashley slurred. "But _there are lots of cute guys,_" she continued in a poor attempt at a whisper.

"More for you then," I laughed. "Knock yourself out."

"I only want the one..."

"Sure, honey. Hey Raven, bring her home for me safe and sound, alright?"

"You're talking to the beer master, dollface. You've got nothing to worry about." For a moment I was tempted to challenge him to a drinking contest, but I thought better of it. Poor Ashley never could hold her liquor quite as well though, despite the fact that she was three years older than me. Oh well.

-o-

I went over the script one more time before stepping out of the car (I, er, "borrowed" Ashley's). Well, here it is. The three most important letters of my career from this point on: TNA. Ladies and gentlemen, expect the unexpected.

"Hey there!" a trim and toned brunette greeted me as I walked into Universal Studios. "You must be the new girl. Christy, right? I'm Stephanie, but you can call me Trinity."

"Nice to meet you," I managed weakly. I was never sure how to act around female wrestlers. Back in the WWE, I noticed that while a lot of them were nice, some of them could be...well, Divas backstage.

"This is my friend Gail," she said motioning to a tanned Asian girl lacing up her boots.

Gail took a quick glance at me before returning to her wardrobe. Yep, that's the kind of Diva I'm talking about. Somehow I think I've seen her before.

"Gail used to work at the WWE." Oh, that explains it. "She's not exactly friendly, but she'll warm up to you soon enough."

"I'll bet." Once I can prove to her that I'm not thin air. Can't please everybody, I guess. "Have you seen Raven?"

Trinity led me two hallways and a corner to a locker room with "Raven" embossed on the door. I thanked her before she went back to the girls' locker room and knocked gingerly.

Looking around, I think my new working environment here at Universal Studios isn't so bad. Granted, the offices aren't as cushy as the ones in the WWE, and it's rather plain-looking backstage (white walls everywhere), but it's clean and functional, which is definitely a good thing.

"Hey, you!" Raven said as he opened the door. "Nice to see you, um..."

"It's 'Christy,' sir," I supplied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sorry. Alcohol kills brain cells, you know."

I giggled. "Speaking of which, I never saw Ashley again after I left the bar. You wouldn't happen to know..."

"I couldn't get an address out of her other then '634 something someplace,' followed by a minute of gibberish. I decided I'd just let her spend the night at my place. We found the apartment today, though, so she's home safe like I promised you."

"Oh goody." For a moment I was relieved, but shock hit me, and my eyes became as round as saucers. I could feel my face turn pale. "S-she spent the night at your place?"

Raven shrugged. "Well, yeah."

"Uh, did you two..."

"You're on in five, guys," Jeff Jarrett called from across the hall.

-o-

A/N: I know I'm a bit rusty, but give me some time to shake it off. After all, I haven't been writing for two years, LOL! I still don't have any clue as to who my secondary pairings will be yet, so I hope you guys can help me out by telling me what you'd like to see or what you think looks good. Want Jackie/Charlie (my favorite pair! I've written them since before they were officially together)? Or A.J./Trinity? Anyone else? A slash pairing, perhaps? Wanna break up Ashley and Raven and hook them up with other people? (I'm hoping not, but if it doesn't fly...) WWE/TNA crossovers are welcome as well. All suggestions will definitely be taken into consideration, and as my fics show, there's no such thing as a weird pairing to me:)


	2. Guaranteed Therapeutic Effects

**A/N:** Err, sorry I took so long, I had trouble going about the problem of editing this. Hope you're still interested...enjoy!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 2: Guaranteed Therapeutic Effects**

"Ta-daa!"

Purple and pink walls, bright furniture and artwork everywhere, and Chinese takeout on the funky dining room table. A bright blue wall clock reading 8:00 p.m. Brightly-colored spherical lamps illuminating the room. And Ashley in the middle of it all wearing paint-stained overalls and a ponytail. "Good Lord, am I in the right apartment?"

Ashley beamed at me. "So what do you think? You like it?"

"For someone who I expect had a nasty hangover today, you sure know how to spiffy up a place."

"Well, Scott had some really good herbal tea to make me feel better..."

A warning bell started ringing in my head. Even _I_ don't call him Scott. "Call me a prude, hon, but I think the common rule is to have sex _after_ you go out on a date, not three hours into meeting him!"

"I did not!" Ashley looked taken aback. "I was too inebriated," she explained sheepishly.

"Live and learn, my friend," I sighed. "Don't worry, you'll get better at the drinking game. Eventually."

We ate the Chinese takeout on a plush yellow couch while watching reruns of _Will and Grace._ "You think I have a chance with him, Christy?"

I mulled it over as Jack McFarland hit on some random hot guy at Banana Republic and got rebuffed on our flat-screen TV set. "Well, there are two sides to it. First, all guys think you're hot, and you have _never_ asked me that question before. However, you're not exactly charming under the influence. But not that bad."

"So I'm 50/50?"

"You're 50/50. Unless you said something really embarrassing or puked in his face a la _The_ _40-Year-Old Virgin._"

She laughed. "Well, I didn't."

"So what happened?"

"Uh, he offered to drive me home."

"...And then?"

She exhaled sharply. "And then _Ipassedoutinhiscar_."

Well, that can't be good.

"I faintly remember him carrying me into his house, then I woke up the next day on his bed..."

"God, no!"

"Chill, girl. He slept on the couch. He's really sweet. He made me some tea, and we talked about philosophy and Nietzsche as he drove me here." She smiled at nothing in particular. Hmm.

"You sooo do not know Nietzsche." Hell, I certainly didn't.

"I studied him in high school and found his ideas fascinating. _What?_"

While she poked and prodded me I still found it impossible to picture Ashley studying some weirdo philosopher in high school. "Sorry, Ash, but I always thought you were the type to smoke in the girls' bathroom or stick it to the teachers. Maybe sleep with the cute male ones."

Ashley hit me with a pillow. "You're so mean!" she laughed.

"Kidding, kidding! I know you've never smoked or stuck it to the teachers."

And with this, our pillow fight commenced.

* * *

"Sweetheart!" 

Raven looked up from the bench and smiled as I walked into the locker room in my green bandana top, fitted jeans, and black stilettos. We've been working together for three weeks now. He's cool, and I consider him my best guy friend here in TNA. It's sort of a joke between us to call each other mushy pet names, but it's all good.

"Yes, buttercup?"

"That was really good acting today," I chimed patronizingly, as if I was talking to a five-year-old. "You are such a good kisser! Ooh!"

He chuckled, peering at me by lowering his sunglasses a la movie star. "Baby, there _is_ a difference between 'boyfriend' and 'dog,' okay?"

"Aww, did I hurt your feelings, Scotty-poo?"

"And don't call me by my real name, either." He picked up his gym bag, stood up and patted me on the head. "It's been fun, dollface, but I'll be meeting the guys for poker night at Christian's house. Smell ya later!"

I gazed on at his retreating back with a confused expression on my face. How come Ashley got to call him Scott and I didn't?

While contemplating this, I saw, through the corner of my eye, amess of color whirl by...rather, _limp_ by. Do they even have proper cleaning services in here? I slowly turned my head to see what odd creature managed to escape the janitor's hands, hoping to high heaven that it wasn't a giant rat covered in paint.

What I _did_ see was...well, it's tough to discern under all that color. I think it's a guy. Looks like he's in a lot of pain.

"Hey there!" I called out as I rushed towards him. "Need some help?"

"Nah, I'm fine," he breathed with much effort.

"Don't lie, honey, you look like somebody beat you up real bad!"

He leaned against the wall and looked down at me. Wow, dude's mighty tall. "You really shouldn't get all worried about me. I'm like this every day. It's normal to me."

I stared up into his sparkling greenish blue eyes (hands down the most striking color on him). I placed a hand on his upper arm. "Pain shouldn't be normal to anybody!"

"A few pills and I'll be fine," the stranger drawled.

I clicked my tongue. "Addiction shouldn't be normal to anybody, either!"

Uh-oh. Looks like I struck a nerve. "Who are you," he hissed, pulling back, "to judge me? You don't even know me!"

I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. "Right, I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

The colorful stranger nodded. "You shouldn't have."

Silence. Painful memories flashed in my head.

And then, an idea struck. "Hey, come with me!" I grabbed him by the wrists and started pulling him to my locker room. He hesitated.

"I'm fine, miss, I just wanna go home..."

Shaking my head at him through the open doorway of my locker, I pulled him in. "Nuh-uh. You're not going home hurting. Lie down right here, sweetie." I unrolled a mat onto the floor. (I do yoga in my spare time.)

He did, lying down belly up while muttering something unintelligible - probably a lot of swear words -under his breath, before finally saying, "If this is the only way I'll get you to leave me alone, then fine."

I held a towel under the running faucet in the comfort room before going back to my locker room. "I'll get you cleaned up first. I don't want body paint ruining my newly-manicured nails."

The man groaned. "This is gonna take long, isn't it?"

I just smiled at him as I started wiping off all the glow-in-the-dark body paint from his torso. Then in slow strokes I cleaned the paint off his face...and God help me, he was just _gorgeous_. He had a strong jaw line, prominent cheekbones and creamy skin which brought out his eyes (blue, with flecks of green) even more. "Well, there's a really pretty face underneath all this goop," I whispered, and before I even realized it I was tracing his jaw with my finger.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Let's just get this over with."

"Ah, right. Belly down now, hon." He complied, and I straddled him on the cot with a bottle of baby oil in one hand. I used to take massage lessons during the summer in my college days, and it sort of became my day job (if I didn't have any modeling stints) when I was trying to make ends meet in L.A. "Don't you worry about a thing. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't need this, seriously," he protested.

"I wanna make you feel better."

"You care too much. I just want to...oh, wow."

I poured some on my hands and started rubbing his back slowly. "That feel good?"

"Yeah..."

I got on my knees from a sitting position to increase my leverage.

"Wow, you're really good at this... "

Damn, his sexy, distinctly Southern voice is really turning me on...oh, _shit_. Focus, Christy, focus. I glanced at the wall clock: 8pm. I glanced at the mirror above the dresser and saw that my face was totally flushed. I've got to distract myself. Let's see: peach-colored wall. White door. Bench at the side. Dim lighting. My Nike gym bag in the corner. The door is closed. Do NOT imagine this man sweaty...and naked...on top of me...on an oil-covered waterbed...

What am I supposed to be doing again? Oh, right.

I redirected my focus to gently kneading his tense muscles in the area between his shoulder and his neck, before working my way downward until the small of his back. "Well, you've got a lot of knots here. Stress gotten to you?"

"It's unavoidable," he breathed. "Mmm...yeah, right there..."

I bent down until my breasts grazed his back though my bandana top. "I told you I could make you feel better," I whispered into his ear. He turned his head to face me and we locked eyes. God, I have never had a man's eyes pierce right through me the way his did right then. I found myself drowning in his within seconds.

Snap out of it, girl!

In a heartbeat I scrambled off him...and fell to the floor with a thud. Sooo uncool. I will totally kick my own ass once I get home.

"Are you alright?" He bit his lower lip as he helped me up.

"How sweet of you to hold back your laughter for me," I mused sarcastically with a half-smile.

He grinned sheepishly. "Well. For what it's worth, my back feels a whole lot better. Thanks."

This shirtless, beautiful stranger stretched out his arms...and, well, fuck me. It's moments like these that cause me to act on impulse. Before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and kissed him.

_Oh, shit._


	3. Innuendoes and Misinterpretations

**Chapter 3: Innuendoes and Misinterpretations (Christy's POV)**

I pulled back, suddenly embarrassed at what I'd done. "I, uh...sorry. Shit, I shouldn't have..."

He placed a finger on my lips. "Shh," he whispered, before silencing me completely by taking my lips captive.

And at that moment, I knew I was done for.

Funny how a complete stranger can turn your knees to jelly.

I was so overpowered by his kiss that I found myself staggering backwards into a sitting position on the dresser, my back to the mirror. His hot, moist breath was all over my neck and his hands were all over my body...and then unzipping my jeans..._unzipping my jeans?_ "Whoa! Wh-what are we doing?"

"I don't know," he panted into my ear, "what?"

"Uh, I don't think we should...um..." The heat between us made me forget the rest of my sentence. I let out a small gasp as he pulled the knot of my bandana and let it fall to the floor.

"You don't think we should what?"

"Never mind," I breathed, hastily unfastening his belt."Damn it, I _so _fucking want you."

-o-

It took me a few minutes to..._recover. _Wait, did I just do what I think I did?

Okay, let's look at this one at a time. My four C's of analyzing a situation (it's a guide I keep in mind, especially at parties): Clock? 11p.m. Clothes? Various places around the room. Christy? Sitting on top of the dresser in _nothing but stilettos_. Company? One sweaty, naked man in front of me, with my head resting on his shoulder.

...Yep, it's safe to say that _I fucking did it._

He got up to put his pants back on. "Wow. When you said you'd make me feel better, I didn't expect you'd go the whole nine yards."

"Me neither," I said. "Hey."

He looked at me. "What is it?"

"I just realized that I don't even know your name." God, I am such a MORON! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

We glanced at each other, and burst into really weird and forced laughter. "Come to think of it, I don't know yours, either. My name's Jeff. Jeff Hardy."

"I'm Christy Hemme."

_(Awkward silence ensues.)_

In one quick motion I slithered back into my pants and hurriedly tied my top back on. "I should get going. Been nice...er, _meeting_ you, Jeff." Gee, that didn't come out right, did it?

"Uh, yeah. You too."

As soon as reached my motorcycle in the parking lot, I sped off, feeling an impending sense of doom once I realized that Ashley would NOT let me live this down.

-o-

"You very well know that I have to leave for the next Raw show tomorrow, don't you?" my roommate inquired huffily as I walked into the apartment, my hair a total mess. "You don't have time for your dear roommate anymore?"

"Sorry about that," I exhaled sharply. I'd decided to avoid ridicule completely by not telling her about my _encounter _with Jeff.

She checked her watch. "Mind telling me what kept you up until 11:30pm?"

"I...um...had to wait for them to finish my script for next week."

"You're not holding any script."

"Really? Damn, I must have left it there."

She cocked her head to the side and looked questioningly at my top. "Why is your bandana inverted?"

I looked down. Oh, crap. "Well, it fell off in the locker room and I was in a hurry to put it back on. I guess I didn't notice."

Ash contemplated my answer for a few seconds before giving up. "Fine. I hope you had dinner because I already ate."

"Actually, I haven't." My stomach growled.

"Hmm."

I walked past her to the fridge to get something to eat, when I felt something move in my back pocket.

"A-HA!" she yelled triumphantly. I whirled around, and to my chagrin, there was, dangling on her finger, a shredded piece of red lace which I recognized as my own thong. "You DID something. Rather, some_one_!"

I could feel my face getting redder than the incriminating piece of evidence Ashley held and dropped to the floor in front of me. "Shit."

"Christy got la-aid, Christy got la-aid," she sang. "So who's the dude you did?"

"You, my dear, are so uncouth," I laughed.

"Come on, Christy, who was it?"

"Nobody you know." I hastily bit into a Pop Tart.

"Well," she said, sitting down on our yellow couch,"what happened?"

I narrated to her the entire sequence of events. She couldn't stop laughing. "So wait, Christy, let me get this straight: you dragged this guy to your locker room, wiped off his body paint, gave him a back rub, jumped his bones" -I cringed- "and _then_ you found out his name?"

"Basically, yeah."

She patted me on the back. "Oh, Christy. To paraphrase _your_ words, I think the common rule is to have sex _after_ you go out on a date, not one hour into meeting him."

"Ha-ha-FUCKYOU." I'd been staring at the TV to avoid her mocking gaze for minutes until I realized that it wasn't even on.

"Well, was he good?"

"Oh, hell yeah. Best piece of ass I've ever had. There's this thing he does with his tongue..."

She shuddered. "Okay, too much information! And with that I take my leave _goodnightChristyseeyatomorrow!_"

Ashley ran off to her bedroom, leaving me alone to scour the fridge for another Pop Tart.

I couldn't stop thinking about what I just did. I don't think I've ever fucked up this big. (I mean figuratively.) Ever.

Well, it's alright, everyone makes mistakes. I just wish I'd known him at least a day before I had sex with him. (I am mentally slapping myself across the face right now.) Or at least known his name. Sure, people know Christy Hemme as a wild girl, but this is seriously the most reckless thing I've ever done. I'm normal, too! "Wild girl" is an image. This is reality. Will I even be able to look anyone straight in the eye tomorrow?

-o-

"Okay," I whispered to myself, drinking a lime-flavored Gatorade in the comfort and privacy of my TNA locker room. "Pretend nothing happened. He doesn't look like the kiss-and-tell type, anyway."

The sound of my locker room door bursting open sent me ten feet into the air. "Darling!"

"WHAT THE F--flowers." Upon seeing who it was, I sighed in relief and finished off my Gatorade. "Hi, Raven."

"So," he said, grinning, "was it good for you?"

_He knows? _I spat out my drink. "E-e-excuse me?"

"Guess not. I was just curious whether or not that Gatorade was any good," he said, pointing at the empty bottle in my hand.

"Oh, no, it is. You just kind of startled me." I started rummaging through my gym bag for some tissue, bending my head down just enough to get him to not see my face in case I turned beet red.

"I'm more of a tea, coffee and scotch guy myself."

I let out a short laugh. "Well, you and Ashley would be perfect together." I looked at the wall clock. "Hey, we should get going. It's showtime."

-o-

The lights were dim. My back was to the wall. He faced me, one hand on the wall for leverage. He eyed me seductively and lowered his head to meet my lips with his. I ran my fingers through his hair, his hand was on the small of my back.

"And cut! Good job, you guys."

I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. "Raven, sweetie, ever consider _brushing your teeth_ before we do these scenes? You taste unpleasantly of beer."

"I'm hurt, honeybear." He pouted.

I laughed and slapped his ass. "Take it easy, pal."

Turning around, I saw a familiar blonde leaning against the doorway. "Ash! You're here early."

She attempted a smile, but I noticed her brows were furrowed. "Hello, Christy."

We'd been on the road for ten minutes with only the voice of Gavin DeGraw in the air. I broke the silence. "So where are we going?"

A shrug was all I got in reply.

"Where do you want to have dinner?"

"Dunno."

"How about that sushi bar a few blocks away from our apartment?"

"Okay."

"...Okay."

The CD stopped playing. Dead air again. "You're awfully quiet, Ashley."

"Hmm. Really?" I couldn't help noticing her frown.

"Yeah. Is there something on your mind?"

She pursed her lips and glanced sideways at me. "I was just wondering, is there something going on between you and Scott?"

"Scott _who?_"

"You know. Raven."

Well, that certainly came out of left field. "Uh, no," I replied."Where the hell did you get that idea?"

Her eyes redirected the road. "It's just that all the making out, and pet names..."

I couldn't help laughing. Silly Ashley! I just told her a few nights ago that I'd fucked someone else and she... "Come on, Ash, he's not even my type! We're just friends."

"Fine. If you say so." I can't believe she's making such a big deal about this. Unless she..._oh._

Ten seconds of deafening silence passed, and an idea struck. I whipped out my cellphone and scrolled through the phonebook. "Hello, is this the Ritz-Carlton? I'd like to reserve a table for three this Saturday. Twelve noon. Christy Hemme. Thanks."

"Oh, what's that? You didn't reserve a room so you could have a three-way with Scott and Mr. Day-Glo afterwards?" she sneered.

"No, Ash, you're gross." I dialed a second number. "Raven! You free this Saturday? Great! Let's do lunch. You, me, and Ashley."

She glared wide-eyed at me. "What?"

I covered the mouthpiece. "Try and 'three-way' _that._ Eyes on the road, sweetheart." I went back to my phone conversation. "It's at the Ritz-Carlton, Raven, so wear something nice. None of those silly little skirts you wear. Yeah. Clean yourself up, and STAY AWAY from that black goop you like to smear all over your face. Good, good. My treat, duh. Buh-bye."

Clicking it shut, I looked at Ashley. "There. You happy now?"

"I, uh...come on, I don't even know him that well."

"Well, you spent the night at his place," I snickered. "Don't be such a tight-ass, Massaro. It's just lunch. I'll be there to make sure you don't fall or say something stupid on the way out. And I'll bring my taser to make sure you don't pass out, either."

She rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"Hey, you know that black sparkly halter dress you have?"

-o-

The waiter set down a plate of mixed sushi in front of us. While waiting, Ashley and I had discussed how my new life in TNA was. We were now on the topic of my co-workers.

"Christian Cage was telling me the other day that the only thing hard about his decision to move was the fact that he wouldn't get to spend that much time with Trish anymore."

Ashley nodded. "She misses him a lot, I'll tell you that." Trish Stratus is her best friend on the current Raw roster, along with Mickie James (despite that silly little storyline she's stuck in at present).

"The girls here are great," I added."Miss Jackie is just fabulous, and Trinity is really nice. Gail Kim isn't too friendly, but we're getting along better now."

"Uh-huh. How's Scott doing?"

This is driving me nuts.

"Know what, Ashley? I have never seen you so worked up over a guy before," I told her honestly. "You hardly ever take men seriously."

She popped a piece of sushi into her mouth. "I don't know...it's just that Scott's really smart, and sweet, and one of a kind."

"You can tell after one drunken night?" I laughed. "You've got it bad, Ash!"

"Oh, shut up. What about you? How are things with you and Mister Mystery?"

Well, if I would tell anyone, it'd be Ashley. "His name is Jeff Hardy."

"Hmm. So _he's_ Day-Glo? I've seen him on a few episodes of TNA before."

"Yeah, him," I replied. "Mind you, he's really hot without all that paint covering him."

"Well, he certainly leaves a lot to the imagination," she giggled. "So are you serious about him?"

Now that, I hadn't really considered. "I don't know, Ashley. I've only known him, like, one day. It's too soon to tell if there's a connection between us."

"Other than a physical one," she corrected with a grin.

"_Riiight_," I huffed, rolling my eyes. "You know, I don't really see it going anywhere. Maybe it was just a one-night thing."

She gestured at me with her chopsticks. "Christy, whether it's with Jeff or not, you should really consider getting back in the dating game. You haven't been with a guy in over a year."

"Oh, come on. I don't need a man to feel complete."

In the back of my mind, though, I knew she had a point. It's not like I'm desperate or anything, but I do want to settle down (maybe not soon, but someday), get married and have kids in the future.

-o-

I actually haven't seen Jeff since that night. I guess they don't call him the "Enigma" for nothing. "An espresso and an oatmeal cookie, please."

Ah, Starbucks. It's my favorite place to chill out, and thank God there's one in every corner. The one in Orlando is just a hop and a stride from our apartment, which is one of the reasons why I love living where I do now. I stop by every Saturday morning wearing my comfiest clothes; today it's a dark green sweater, a black skirt, and ballet flats. The weather is great this Saturday, too: windy, with just the right amount of sunlight.

My eyes roamed the café searching for an empty table. "Jeez, it's packed today. Oh, there's one!"

A guy was sitting by himself, his back turned to me. Black shirt, jeans, and a beanie on his head. "Excuse me, is this seat..."

He shook his head without looking up. I sat down at the only other seat at the table and looked at him. Wait, those green eyes...

Uh-oh. "Jeff?"


	4. Ass Backwards

_A/N:_ Thanks a million for all your reviews! I was off to a slow start, but I hope you all continue to R and R. Reviews are my fuel, guys! You rock!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4: Ass-Backwards**

Jeff looked up from his coffee cup to face me. "Christy?"

"Uh...hi. Didn't recognize you with your hair hidden in a beanie," I laughed nervously. Is it too late to take my food and run? Oh, crap, I don't want to be rude. We work together.

"Yeah. Been a while since I've...seen you."

Can you say 'awkward'? I really, _really_ shouldn't have had sex with him. "So how've you been?"

He smiled a bit. "Better, thanks. My back doesn't hurt so much anymore."

"Good to hear," I said."Um...oh, hell. I'm sorry I left you high and dry that night. I kinda felt weird about...things."

"It's alright, I don't blame you. I guess we were just..."

"Acting on impulse?" I offered.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Um. Settled then. Cookie?"

We shared my large oatmeal cookie and started discussing work over coffee. We'd talked about how I used to work for the WWE, their recent signs of complacency (which, Jeff told me, was the reason why Christian quit), stupid Vince McMahon and his self-indulgence, Joey Styles' big speech, and we were now on the topic of our co-workers at TNA.

"Raven? He's okay," Jeff said. "He and the guys have poker night every Wednesday at our place, but I was never good at cards."

_Well, you're certainly good at..._Stop that thought, Christy. "How about Jarrett?"

"Hmm. He's very professional. Great businessman, great wrestler, great actor. Just a wee bit intimidating."

"I hear that. You know, I was just thinking that you don't look like a Florida native. Your accent tells me you're from somewhere else, too. Where are you from?"

He smiled as he looked out the window. "I'll always call North Carolina home, but here, I room with Christian. And you?"

"I moved here from Temecula. My apartment's a few blocks down. I'm rooming with my friend, Ashley Massaro. She's a WWE Diva, so she's not around a lot." I drained my cup of espresso.

He accompanied me to my apartment building. "Now that's a sweet ride!" He exclaimed, eyeing my Harley-Davidson with pure admiration. He looked like a little boy who saw something he really liked through a shop window. It was cute.

"Heh, thanks. Three months old. It was the first thing I bought after winning a contract with the WWE."

"Wow, it's yours? Awesome."

I grinned at him. "Wanna take 'er out for a ride?"

In a flash, he literally swept me off my feet and perched me on the edge of the seat of my Harley before climbing on in front of me. "I thought you'd never ask!"

He drove it so fast I had to wrap my arms around his waist and cling on to him for dear life. _"Aieeeeeeh!"_

"This is amazing!"

"It may be a joyride for you, Jeff, but if you're not careful it's gonna be our _last_ ride!" I screamed into the wind, shutting my eyes. The sound of the roaring motor buzzed through my ears, and my heart was practically beating out of my chest.

It seemed like eons before we finally stopped. Letting out a sigh of relief, I buried my face in his shoulder. "I'm not dead yet?"

"No, ma'am. For your information, I like doing stunts on my motorbikes in my free time. So, uh, sorry about my...recklessness."

I blinked my eyes open and looked up at a beige-colored building towering before us. Jeff climbed off the motorcycle, smoothing my windswept hair back. "What a ride. Woman, I could love you."

Looking down, I blushed and cautiously got off the motorcycle as he looked at the building. "Here's my place," he said.

I decided to accompany him to his apartment. It was clean and white, with sunlight pouring in through the curtains on the large window, and smelled pleasantly of polished oak. A nice, homeycontrast to my wildly colorful room with Ashley. I looked at the pictures on the wall. Jeff's original hair color was blond? Wow. _H-o-t._

"I guess I should be going."

"You _should_? Really?" He stepped closer to me, our faces literally millimeters apart.

"Well, I don't have to," I breathed. He started kissing the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder, sending tingles throughout the mess of nerves that I was underneath.

This time, our kiss was intense and urgent. He kissed the way I liked to be kissed: with passion and intensity, hot and wet but not sloppy. His touch sent my temperature soaring. Fearing that my knees would give way soon, I wrapped my legs around his waist and my hands clasped behind his neck as he carried me to his bedroom and locked the door shut, our bodies entangled the whole time.

I could imagine how weird we must have sounded if someone had heard us from the other side of the door.

"Wait."

"What?"

"You're really sure you want to do it this time?"

"Yes, Jeff, I'm positively sure. Now shut up and kiss me."

"Mmm...oh, _shit_."

"What now?"

"I don't have any condoms. I used my last one when we..."

"Don't worry, I've got ten in my purse. Now take your goddamn clothes off."

"Okay!"

-o-

Inhaling the warm morning air, Istretched my arms and fell back on the soft, white, pillows. I was in a heaven of white. I felt wonderful. Sated. I faced Jeff and propped myself up on one arm. He had a lazy, sexy smile on his face...the kind that made my loins stir.

"I want you to know, Jeff," I whispered, tracing his jaw with my finger, "that until I met you, I usually didn't...in fact, I have _never_ slept with a man one hour into meeting him."

Jeff had his hands behind his head as he faced the ceiling. He smirked as he eyed me through half-closed eyes. "Yes, I'm sure you like to wait at least two."

I laughed and let my head fall onto his chest. "And I'm always sure to get their name beforehand."

"Well, I do too! Fancy that."

"Actually, I haven't slept with anyone in over a year."

He let out a laugh at this. "Right. Any other revelations? You normally don't have sex until the twentieth date? You like to spend your free time studying in the town library? You're a 24-year-old virgin? Okay, I'll scratch out that last one. You couldn't possibly be a virgin with the way you..."

"A year of celibacy and over a minute of proximity to a man oozing raw sexuality will do that to you," I murmured into his chest as he stroked my hair.

"But...why? A girl like you shouldn't have any trouble finding a guy who was interested in her. I'd think that you'd have to beat them all off with a stick!"

"I just didn't feel like it, I guess. Until I met you." I could feel the warm sunlight enveloping us. "Hey, how long were we at it?"

"You mean all six times cumulatively?"

"Uh-huh." I grabbed his left hand and squinted to read his watch. 11:55am. A brief realization hit me before I could mentally calculate the hours. "_Five minutes 'till noon?_ Holy shit!"

"Huh? Three hours isn't that long..."

"No, I have to meet some people for lunch today!" I rolled off the bed to look for my cellphone, which I found on the floor near the window. I dialed Raven's number as soon as I found it.

"Hey there. Uh, an emergency came up" -I flashed Jeff the finger as he laughed into the pillow- "so I can't meet you guys for lunch. Really sorry, buddy. You can still go, right? Oh, you're already there. I'll pay for it. You will? You're a godsend. And be nice to Ashley. Thanks a million!" _Beep._

I climbed back on the bed and straddled him. "One more?" Jeff, who was sleepy just minutes ago, was now wide awake.

He flipped me over, looking down at me with both hands on either side of my head. "This is our seventh time today, right?"

Suddenly, we heard a knock at the door, followed by a male voice. "Hey, Skittles! You there?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff groaned, rolling off me to look for his boxers.

"Who's that?"

"Gimme a sec, Christian," he shouted in the general direction of the door. "It's my roommate. Hide in there," he said softly to me, pointing at the cabinet. I picked up my light blue panties and ran like hell towards the cabinet. Through a tiny slit I could see Jeff shrug on his black shirt and walk out of the bedroom.

I am half-naked in a closet. What's a girl to do? It was completely dark, save for a small ray of sunlight peeking in through the slits in the cabinet doors, illuminating a Metallica t-shirt. A-ha!

"So what're you doing back so early? I though you were at Trish's house," came a Southern drawl I quickly recognized as Jeff's.

"Her parents came home today. Her dad's Greek...self-explanatory. She had to create a diversion as I bolted behind them."

"Right, well, I'm going back to my room."

I could hear the bedroom door open, close, and lock. "Is it safe to come out now?" I asked.

"Yeah." He turned the television on so that Christian wouldn't hear us.

"So...what now?" I coughed, stepping out of the stuffy cabinet.

Jeff eyed me up and down. "_Wow._ Can you keep the Metallica shirt on the next time we mess around?"

I couldn't help smiling. "So there's a next time?"

"I'd go nuts if there wasn't." He got down on one knee and held my hand in both of his. "Christy Hemme, would you do me the honor of going out to dinner with me next week?"

_Cuuute. _"I would love to, Jeff."

"Great! Now hang on," he ran to his desk, got a pen, and handed it to me. "Can I get your number?"

"Sure, where do I...?"

"Just write it on the back of my hand."

After scribbling it down, I took off the Metallica shirt and put on my green sweater, skirt, and shoes. "Does this mean I have to break up with my vibrator now?"

"Well, you don't have to _choose_," he noted suggestively.

I laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Now where do I go?"

We mulled it over for a while, when suddenly our gazes both fell to his white blanket. "Jeff, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Absolutely. The window," he said as he started to tie one end of the blanket around his waist. He threw me the other end, and I climbed out of the window. Thank God they were only on the second floor. With my hands gripping the blanket and my feet securing me to the wall, I kissed Jeff, who had his hands gripping the window frame for stability, one last time.

"This kinda reminds me of high school," Jeff mused. "only _I _was the one climbing out the window. I'll call you, alright?"

"You'd better!"

I landed on both my feet and waved goodbye. Walking to my Harley, I kept on thinking how weird this situation was. We have sex, then find out each other's names, then he asks me out before asking for my phone number. And _I_ walked _him_ to his door, hid in _his_ cabinet and then escaped out _his_ window.

Is it just me, or is everything going ass-backwards?

* * *

_A/N:_ Hey, don't blame her for missing lunch at the Ritz-Carlton.I'd do the same thing if Jeff were in _my _bed, LOL!So, curious as to what's going to happening between Ashley and Raven? Expect some sparks to fly in the fifth chapter:) 


	5. Stood Up

**A/N:** Okay, okay, I'll admit I ripped a scene here out of an episode of _Average Joe: Hawaii_, but I found it so cute when I watched it that I couldn't resist integrating it into the story!

-o-

**Chapter 5: Stood Up (Ashley's POV)**

Scott clicked his cellphone shut. "Looks like Christy's not going to be able to join us today."

I didn't know whether I should strangle or hug Christy the moment I got back to the apartment. For now, the only thing I was certain of was that I was nervous as hell. I was counting on Christy to get the ball rolling, and now I'm all alone. Crap. My heart's racing. I nervously tugged at the hem of my sparkly black cocktail dress.

I mean, yeah, we got along great when we first met, but that was like, a month ago.

"Typical Christy, scheduling a lunch and then not showing up," I muttered.

"Hmm."

"So..." I glanced longingly at a pack of cigarettes on a table beside us. No, I shouldn't. This is hard. It's been six months since I quit, but I can feel the urge for nicotine taking over. I've _got_ to look away.

"Try gum or lollipops next time you feel it."

I looked back at Scott. "Huh?"

"You know, next time you feel that nicotine craving. It's usually just an oral fixation."

"Wow. How could you tell I used to smoke?" I asked. Darn it, do my teeth look yellow or something?

"I used to look at them the way you did just earlier," he said."I haven't smoked a single stick in a year."

I pursed my lips and squinted. "Tough, huh?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. But it's the best decision I've ever made in my life."

Our orders arrived just then. Lobster for him, roast chicken from me. And a glass of chardonnay each. He looked at my order and chuckled.

"Oh no," I groaned. "Did I order too much again?"

"No, it's a good thing. It's just that I hate it when I take a girl out to dinner and all she orders is water. A salad, maybe, but only if she's really hungry." Scott laughed.

I smiled, feeling relieved. "I don't want you to think I'm a total pig or anything."

"Of course not." The way he smiled at me then made my knees go weak. (Thank God I'm sitting down.) "I think you're perfectly charming."

"Really? I was kind of embarrassed for passing out in your car that time we met. Not a great first impression," I laughed nervously, nursing my chardonnay in my right hand.

He placed his hand on my free one, sending jolts of electricity through my body. "Don't worry about it. Did I ever tell you how cute you looked while you were sleeping?"

(I hope he doesn't see me blush.)

God, who _am_ I? Ashley Massaro doesn't get nervous over any guy, ever! I have messed with countless bad boys without breaking a sweat, so why, all of a sudden, can this one man make all the blood rush to my face with just one touch? I feel like a little schoolgirl again.

I've got to admit, though, he looks great in that white silk shirt and slacks. And he's clean-shaven, too! Like, _wow_.

"Uh...right...thanks," I said, giggling. We started on the topic of philosophy while eating, before moving on to interests. I finished off my chicken and downed it with a small sip of chardonnay. "So, uh, what are you into?"

He asked the waiter for the check. "Tell you what: why don't we ditch this hoity-toity place and I'll show you?"

I sighed in relief, thankful that he would take the wheel. "Sounds great!"

-o-

"I can really only think of one place where we wouldn't look overdressed," he said, pulling over. "And here it is."

I looked out the window to see an art museum. "Okay, who tipped you off that I love art?"

"No one," he replied, shrugging. "It's just that I like to paint in my free time, and I like to go here for inspiration."

"Really?" What a catch! "I love to paint, too!"

Scott stepped out of his Jaguar and opened my car door for me. _Not_ your typical bad-boy behavior. "Shall we?"

Slipping my arm through his, I walked with Scott to the museum. For about an hour, we browsed through several hallways of bizarre, colorful sculptures, and several abstract artworks hanging from the walls. _De Stijl_, surrealism, and some Picasso paintings.

And we were holding hands the whole time. (The best part of our little tour.) I never knew it was possible for a guy to make one part of you feel cold and the rest of you all warm and fuzzy just by holding your hand.

"This one's my favorite," he said, interrupting my happy stupor. I followed his gaze and rested my eyes upon a canvas practically drowning in lightcyan and ochre. It was a painting of wall clocks melting in the sand.

"I concur," I said, nodding, "Salvador Dali is a genius. Ever notice that sometimes, if you'll look closely, you can see him in his paintings?"

He laughed. "Yeah, actually. He's great."

It was two in the afternoon when we got back on the road. "Ashley, you wouldn't happen to have any plans tonight, would you?"

I shook my head in reply.

"Great," he said and took a left at the next intersection.

We stopped and I looked out the window to see a...well, it really looked like a castle. "For the second time, I would like to welcome you, Miss Massaro, to my humble abode." He bowed.

All I could really remember of my previous visit was a drunken haze, so allow me to describe his house again. It was lovely and old-fashioned, a breathtaking environment of royal blue, dark green, and maroon, with a brick fireplace, a big armoire, large chairs, a library full of classic literature, beautiful portraits on the walls, pictures of himself and his TNA buddies perched on the mantelpiece. All in all, an atmosphere that would make anyone who stepped in feel like royalty. A Duncan Sheik song started playing from the sound system (hey, it's not like he's stuck in the 1800's).

"Duncan Sheik? And I thought you were a heavy metal and alt-rock kind of guy."

"Well, yeah, sometimes, but Duncan Sheik is the best music when you just want to chill out."

Just that second, I realized that I am _so_ not used to this. Scott defied all my expectations: I thought he'd be a typical, run-of-the-mill, Pantera-loving dude with a messy apartment, but...wow. There's certainly more to him than meets the eye.

"Wait here a second. Make yourself at home, Ashley, I'll just get some stuff from upstairs."

I was studying a framed certificate of his MENSA membership in awe. Gosh, it keeps getting better and better...he's a perfect gentleman, he's funny, he's sweet, _and_ he has an IQ of 147? _Amazing._

In minutes he descended the stairs with two easels, two brushes, and various colors of paint. He set up the easels on two stands which were folded up in one corner of the living room.

"What are you doing?" I inquired.

He finished setting up the easels before turning to face me. "Listen, you don't have to do this, but I just...I got so inspired just looking at you when we were at the museum that I...well, Ashley, I really felt like painting a portrait of you."

"Of me? Really?" I nervously started toying with a lock of my hair.

"Yeah, but only if it's okay with you."

I hope I'm not blushing. (Again.) "Oh...sure. Why are there two easels?"

"Well, I was thinking," he stammered,"I mean, since you said you like to paint too..."

A light bulb went off in my head. "Oh, we could paint portraits of each other!"

He nodded. "And trade them afterwards."

"That sounds like a great idea!"

We sat down facing each other in front of our easels. I got to work. Let's see: I'll start with his dark, intense eyes...a mix of brown and black. We looked at each other at almost the same time, and at that moment, I could feel butterflies in my stomach. I took a deep breath, and continued painting.

(Appropriately enough, a song just ended and the title of the next Duncan Sheik song that played was called "Drowning in Your Eyes.")

I think I'll paint him from the waist up. A dim, yellowish light emanating from a lamp in the corner illuminated his hair and the outline of his white silk shirt, which was loose, but clung to him enough to outline his muscles. His posture was not stick-straight, but he wasn't slouching, either. I watched in sheer admiration as he worked on his portrait, gazing intently at the easel he was painting on. He glanced up and met my gaze, at which point I averted my eyes, slightly embarrassed. I realized then that at least five minutes had passed...and the whole time, I was staring at him...but not painting.

His black hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few tendrils hanging loose. With one smooth brush stroke I drew his strong, squared jaw. To get the color of his skin, I mixed white with a very small dollop of red on my palette.

And now, the background. I don't care to add the maroon wallpaper or the corner lamp in the picture. I looked beyond. Greenish curtains were drawn open to let in white moonlight. That's it! I'll paint the night sky as the background. A round, pale blue moon, purplish clouds, and several stars. The color of the sky was a mix of dark blue and deep purple.

When I finally finished my portrait, I looked up to see that he'd finished ahead of me, and the whole time he was just sitting there, looking at me with a hint of a smile. "You're done?"

"Yeah," I replied.

We had a glass of champagne each as we stood out in the balcony, looking at the moon together. I shivered at the sting of the chilly night wind. Seeing me react to the cold, he set down his glass on the ledge and held me in his arms, both of us still facing the spectacular view under the moon.

"I hope this'll do," he said, "I left my coat in the car."

I laughed, placing my hands over his, which grazed my waist. "It's alright." Actually, this is _much _better.

"Hey, Ashley?"

"Hmm?"

"I hate to sound really corny right now," he spoke softly, "but moments like these only happen once in a blue moon, and I'm glad I'm spending this with you."

"Me too." I smiled as I continued to look up at the night sky with the blue moon hanging overhead. The warmth of Scott's body and the very faint but lovely scent of his perfume sent me into a mild high. All I had to do was angle my head a bit, and I found myself looking right at his wondeful, shapely lips. I'd forgotten whatever the hell else we were talking about. I looked up into his eyes, tilted my head a bit more, and leaned in, slowly closing my own eyes and feeling his hot breath on my lips.

_Smash!_

We both rushed to the ledge of the balcony to see what had happened. Apparently, the wind blew Scott's empty glass right off the ledge of the balcony, landing on the floor below and bursting into a million crystals.

"Damn," I said, giggling. "Buzz kill." I'm feeling really tipsy right now, and it's not because of the champagne.

He held me closer. "Ah, don't mind it. I've got a million of those." We laughed into the night wind.

-o-

It was close to midnight when we finally got back to my place. With Scott's painting of me tucked safely under my arm, I walked to the door of my apartment with him walking beside me. I set it down and turned to face him. "I had a wonderful time, Scott."

Time seemed to be at a standstill when he smiled at me. "I did, too."

I started fidgeting awkwardly with my keys, trying to find which one was for the apartment door. Oh, who was I kidding? I could easily point it out just by looking at the set of keys. I only had three, and they were all colored differently. The red one for my BMW, the yellow one for my house in New York, and the blue one for this apartment.

A weird silence came between me, pretending not to know which key opened the door, and Scott, who was looking at the ceiling, down the hallway, at my keys, pretty much everywhere except at me.

Oh, forget it. I didn't expect that he had watched the movie _Hitch_ anyway. (For the uneducated: Hitch revealed in this movie that when a woman fumbles with her keys, it means she wants the guy to kiss her. _Totally true._) "Ah, here it is."

I'd just stuck the key into the keyhole when I felt his hand under my chin, slowly lifting it up until I faced him. The hall was quiet, and we were the only two people standing there.

_God, I hope it's going to happen this time._

Millimeter by millimeter, he lowered his head to mine and...you know, I think one of the sexiest things ever is that electrifying moment when you're about to kiss someone for the first time. It's a moment that I rarely come across, since the guys I date usually like to do it really fast. Trust me, it's a bigger turn-on when a guy takes his time.

So when our lips finally touched, it was, in a word, magical. I felt like I was reliving one of those rare moments in high school.

No tongue, no dripping saliva, no hand on my ass or boobs, no rush to get to the bedroom. It was just a sweet, slow kiss. The kind of kiss whereyou just stop caring about anything else except the guy you're with.And. It. Was. Amazing. I savored the moment before finally breaking free for air (which right now seems totally overrated).

"You're a real catch, Scott Levy."

Holding me in his arms, he grinned down at me. "Likewise. I have never met a girl like you before, and I doubt I ever will again."

He kissed me on the forehead and we bid each other good night, and I turned the blue key to open the door, still giddy from the kiss.

"Christy, you here? Damn, these stilettos are _killing_ me!" Seeing that Christy's bedroom was locked, I assumed she was fast asleep. (Where had she been, anyway?) Oh well, I'll thank her for not showing up in the morning. I walked into my own bedroom and set down the portrait on a chair, flopping backwards onto my bed to take a good look at it.

Wow. How is it possible that one painting could make me look so..._wow_? The Ashley in the portrait was staring right at the viewer with green eyes like a cat's. My blonde hair cascaded down my bare shoulders (I was wearing a black halter dress). Behind me was a maroon wall with a framed artwork adorning it. I leaned closer to examine it closely. Anyone could see that it was a painting of a sunset, but there was light reflecting against the glass surface of the frame (coming from that lamp in his living room, I figured). Upon closer inspection, one could see the familiar outline of a man sitting down with his hair in a ponytail, a man I recognized to be Scott himself.

I recalled our conversation on Salvador Dali.

_"Ever notice that sometimes, if you'll look closely, you can see him in his paintings?"_

-o-

A/N: In case you were wondering or you don't know already, yes, Raven really is a member of MENSA, and reportedly has an IQ of 147. I read it on Wikipedia :) The painting ability is totally fictional, though (unless there's a fact I overlooked).

Also, to answer some of your questions about the story plot: Christy has ten condoms in her purse because like most modern free-thinking women, she knows that it's important to always be prepared _-wink wink-_ LOL! After all, she did manage to give in to Jeff within an hour of meeting him (Chapter 2), so don't you think she'd remember to bring protection in case it might happen again? Hee-hee :)

Jeff doesn't want Christian to know about him and Christy because he knows Christian would totally razz on him for it. It's a guy thing, LOL :) And Jeff's very reserved about his personal relationships. But that doesn't mean that Christian will be totally in the dark about Jeff's liaisons for the rest of the story...because _something_ might slip out in a subequent chapter..._-hint hint-_


	6. Dry Cleaning

_A/N:_ Hiii everybody! (LOL, that was a Dr. Nick from The Simpsons imitation.) Yeah, yeah, I'm re-posting this. I don't really know what happened, maybe it got buried under all those other stories or maybe I took too long to update, or maybe I just suck, but this sixth chapter came out to, like, half as many hits and only two reviews. TWO reviews. After, like,nine on a previous chapter. It breaks my heart. :( Did I do something wrong?

Anyway, I hope you guys can review this time...it would mean the world to me if you do! I promise I'll update faster if I get more reviews...I already have some spare chapters waiting to be released. :)

Thanks, guys:)

* * *

**Chapter 6: Dry-Cleaning (Jeff's POV)**

I watched as Christy landed on the ground beneath her and smiled and waved up at me. She looked cute and conservative in her loose green sweater and black skirt, but I knew better.

Christy Hemme is certainly no saint. She, with her dazzling red hair, delicate face, and small body, firm and soft in all the right places, was Lolita-esque in her pseudo-innocent girlish charm. She is, in the words of Paul Westerberg, "a half-angel, half-tart." I _loved_ it.

As soon as I heard her Harley-Davidson roar out of the driveway, I pulled the blanket back into my room. It's funny. For someone who likes to live to the extreme, I have never been with a girl as wild as her. Now I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but she definitely lifted me out of my 6-month-long state of lethargy. I feel..._alive,_ when I'm with Christy, and I don't mean that in just the, er, carnal sense.

Feeling particularly inspired, I took a moment to write in my notebook of Emoetry. While flipping through the pages, a line of one of my older poems caught my eye:

_"You're beautiful, but strange...so am I."_

How oddly appropriate for my situation.

As I set aside the notebook, I spotted the bright red cordless phone lying on the desk in front of me. It's been so long since I've been with a girl that I've totally forgotten how this whole dating process works. My thing with Christy certainly hasn't helped me remember. The sequence of events was totally jumbled up. Let's see...guy meets girl, guy gets girl's number, guy calls girl, guy takes girl out on date, guy kisses girl, guy and girl have amazing wild sex...am I right? See, with Christy, that last event went first. Not that I mind, really. I especially liked that it was really amazing and really wild.

My eyes refocused on the cordless phone. Damn, when am I supposed to call her? I recalled advice I'd gotten from my brother, my roommate, and my brother's ex-girlfriend (a friend of mine...until she cheated on my brother with another former friend of mine) on three separate occasions.

Matt: _"A girl will go nuts if you take too long before you call her. Bro, it doesn't a rocket scientist to figure out that girls like it when guys care about them and think about them a lot."_

Christian: _"Whatever you do, Rainbow-Brite, do NOT call less than two days after getting her number. You don't want to make her think that you're an overeager sap, or else she'll either lose interest in you or step all over you like a doormat. Do I hear 'pussy-whipped'? Exactly. Better yet, wait until she calls you. That way, the ball's in your court."_

Lita: _"You're Jeff Hardy, bozo. Girls don't care what time you call, as long as it's you on the other end."_

Okay, now I'm just confused. I'll think about it tomorrow instead.

I stepped out of my bedroom and switched on the television. Awesome, Springer's on! I flopped down on the couch to watch. Sometimes I wonder if everyone who goes on Jerry Springer's talk show is just an actor pretending to beat up all the other people, but acting or not, it's hilarious. Today's show has yet another girl whose boyfriend is cheating on her, but as it was just getting to the good part (where she's about to beat up the girl her boyfriend is cheating with), the TV is suddenly switched off.

"Will the orangutan behind me please turn the TV back on before I maul him like a madman?" I demanded, turning around to see Christian with the remote control in his right hand.

"Uh-huh. I'll give this" -he waved the remote control in front of me- "back once you explain to me why there's a black bra on your bed."

"There is?" One glance at the open doorway of my bedroom confirmed it. Why, oh why, did I leave my bedroom door open? I tried not to wince out loud.

"Now, there are two possible scenarios I can think of right now: one is obvious, and the other...well, God damn it, Jeff, I seriously hope you're not a closet transvestite."

My eyes widened in shock and disgust. "No, dumbass, I ain't a freaking tranny!"

He laughed. "Then you finally..."

No! I can't let him know about me and Christy. Not now. I shook my head, trying to come up with a passable excuse in record speed. "Nope. It ended up in my laundry when I got it back from the dry cleaners. In fact, I was about to ring them up right now to tell them about it."

"Well, I'm not stopping you." Christian leaned against the wall and leered at me, arms crossed. It was then that I realized that I was knee-deep in shit. It's moments like these that I hate my tendency to forget things like birthdays and phone numbers. I picked up the phone, now at a loss for whom to call. As I raised my free hand to brush my hair back, I noticed something scribbled on it. A-ha! Christy's number!

_"Hello?"_ came a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Hi, this is Jeff Hardy."

_"Oh hi, Jeff! Sure doesn't take you long to call...I like that."_

It took me all my strength to hide the fact that I was turned on by her voice alone. I cleared my throat and turned my back on my roommate. "Yeah, there was a stray piece of underwear that came with my laundry, Mr. Lee. It's a, um, it's a black brassiere."

I could hear laughing on the other end. _"I was hoping you'd find it, Jeffy. Hey, who the hell is Mr. Lee?"_

"Would you happen to know who it belongs to, Mr. Lee?"

_"Are you, like, pretending to call the laundry service while your roommate's watching? Oh shit---Christian saw my bra, didn't he?"_

I watched as Christian sauntered over to my bedroom to examine the bra. "D cup. _Niiice,_" he said before getting distracted by something on the floor---probably the Metallica shirt she wore. I covered the phone in hopes that she wouldn't hear my less-than-tactful roommate.

Before I went nuts and told him to keep his fucking hands off Christy's bra, I turned my attention back to the phone. "Well, I'll drop by tomorrow to leave it with you in case she comes back for it. Thanks. Goodbye, sir."

"...So?"

"Mr. Lee doesn't know who it belongs to, but I'm bringing that thing tomorrow in case the owner comes looking."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's great, man. Nearly believable."

My face paled as he mentioned those last two words. "Wh-what?"

"The last time you went to the dry cleaners to pick up your laundry was two weeks ago, so I find it a bit iffy that you'd only bring out that bra and call Mr. Lee today."

"Well, I..."

"You don't even memorize Mr. Lee's number."

"Yeah, but..."

"And I don't know how the six used condoms on your bedroom floor would fit in with your story. Did it end up in your laundry too?"

I covered my face with my hands as I sank into the couch. "Shit."

Christian was laughing his ass off as he joined me on the couch and gave me a pat on the back. "Buddy, I think it's great that you're finally boinking chicks again. No need to hide it from Dr. Love," he said smugly. "You've been celibate for so long now that I was scared your dick would fall off." In Christian's eyes, three months is a very, very, very long time to not have sex.

"Thanks a lot for that very insightful observation, Dr. Love," I muttered, my face still buried in my hands.

"I mean, six times, man!" he laughed. "Who's the girl?"

"Heh. I'm not telling you," I replied before I went back into my bedroom, shutting and locking the door.

Through the door I could hear Christian's muffled voice. "Some advice, bro: Chicks normally dig guys whose hair is a nice, _natural_ color, NOT purple with streaks of lime green."

Ignoring him, I picked up the phone in my room and called Christy again. _"Hello?"_

"Hi, it's me, and yes, Christian _did_ see your bra on my bed. And some used condoms on the floor."

The laughing on the other end of the line lasted a good five minutes.

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the souvenir, though. Christian now knows you're a D cup."

_"Oh no, now he might be able to track me down by analyzing my bra size,"_ she noted with sarcasm. _"Babe, there are, like, two girls at most in both the WWE and TNA who _aren't_ size D."_

I laughed. "Anyway, I hope you're free after the show next week."

_"And I hope that this time, you'll buy me dinner before we screw."_

"Well, there goes Plan A. I was planning to bring that Metallica shirt along, too."

_"Either way, Jeff,"_ she purred, _"I'm looking forward to it."_

If there's anything I'm sure of, it's that that woman is something else. After we ended the conversation, I folded up the black lace bra and carefully stored it away in my cabinet. I fell back onto my bed, finding that she was on my mind---again. I couldn't stop thinking about her ever since the night we first met. I had initially dismissed her as a stranger who just happened to care a little too much, but one thing led to another, and...I mean, come on. What guy could resist her? There's something about Christy that draws me to her, and I'm not really sure of what that is.

It could be the way she smiles---she had a smile that could light up the entire East Coast. It could be the way she moves, or how she laughs, or the way her red hair glistens in the sunlight, or simply her body, but I know that's not it, either. I've turned down a lot of very pretty girls with great bodies before, but I just couldn't say no to Christy. It's something intangible, something indescribable. Maybe it's a special immediate connection that we share. I don't know. Hell, it's not like I've decided whether or not I believe in the existence of soulmates yet, anyway.

Damn, Springer's over.


	7. Not This Time

**Chapter 7: Not This Time (Christy's POV)**

"Hey there, sleepyhead."

"Hey," I yawned, tying my red hair back into a ponytail. "I'm guessing it isn't morning anymore?"

"Yup, it's two in the afternoon. Thank your lucky stars it's Sunday today. Care for some Captain Crunch?"

I nodded sleepily and sat down. A few seconds sitting in such a brightly colored room is enough to shock you to full consciousness.

"So," she prodded, "I'm thinking you either did something very physically exhausting, or you're an insomniac. Which one is it?"

Memories of yesterday's Jeff-scapade flashed in my head, and I just could not suppress a grin. I couldn't wait until the next taping. "I'm not an insomniac, I'll tell you that much. And where did _you_ go, Ashley?"

Ash poured the cereal into a bowl in front of me, trying not to meet my eyes as her face reddened. "Ah...not telling."

My eyes widened. "OHMYGOD...you fucked Raven, didn't you?"

"No! I like to wait until I actually know the guy. I'm not _you_, Christy."

"Touché," I grumbled.

She handed me a carton of milk and sat down. "Speaking of yesterday, I demand a really good explanation on why you stood us up."

"Uh...there was an emergency."

"Is that code for 'I was with Jeff'?"

"Fine. _Yes._"

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Tut-tut. Bad girl, deserting us to be with your little boy toy."

He's hardly "little" (and in more ways than one!), I thought to myself, but I immediately stopped before my mind wandered off to very dirty places. Man, it feels like forever's going to pass before the next TNA show. "Come on, Ash, as if you didn't secretly rejoice in the fact that you would be alone with your beloved Scott. You should thank me!"

-o-

My motorbike roared into the parking lot of Universal Studios. After removing my helmet and shaking my red hair (nothing worse than helmet hair, I always say), I checked to see that my clothes were on properly: red lace strapless top? Check. Fitted denims? Check. Black pointed-toe boots with four-inch heels? Check!

Jeff was (obviously) on my mind as I walked into my locker room. In fact, I'd shown up early today because I was so excited to see him. I wonder when the TNA boys will find out that we're...well, what are we, anyway? Technically, we're not dating yet. We're not fuck buddies, either. We'd discussed no such arrangement, and Jeff is, to me, much more than just a hot piece of ass. Anyway, whatever it is we are...how would they react once they find out that we're together? And when? How long did he plan to keep us a secret? I mean, I could really care less about whether or not Christian finds out that was _my_ bra on his bed, but it seemed to me that Jeff wasn't too keen on letting people know about us just yet. Oh, God...what if he thinks this is an open relationship? I sure as hell don't want him screwing other girls!

Why am I thinking about this, anyway? It's not like we've known each other for more than two weeks. I steeled myself and strode into my locker room.

I'd barely been in there ten minutes when I heard knocking at the door. "Halt, who goes there?"

"Christy, it's me." Applying my mascara, I looked with one open eye through the mirror to see Raven open the door behind me.

"What, no pet name? Your creativity's certainly hit an all-time low today, munchkin."

He laughed weakly and sat down on the bench. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

I raised a brow.

"It's a, um," he stammered, suddenly fidgety, "it's a serious question."

"Well, shoot."

Raven started twiddling his thumbs. "Honestly, do you think I'm good-looking?"

My jaw nearly hit the floor. "WHAT?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I did hear, but I'm not sure if it's _you_ I heard. Since when did you start getting all insecure and image-conscious? I thought questions like that were reserved for girls to ask."

"I know, but..." he trailed off, shrugging and staring blankly to his left.

My mind backtracked to last Sunday's conversation with my roommate.

_"...And where did _you_ go, Ashley?"_

_Ash poured the cereal into a bowl in front of me, trying not to meet my eyes as her face reddened. "Ah...not telling."_

Bingo! "I'll bet my Harley that Ashley has something to do with all of this."

He tilted his head as he looked at me, a curious smile playing on his features. "Gee, you girls talk about everything, don't you?"

I shook my head, applying a thin layer of lip gloss before turning to face him. "Not really, but I kind of got the hint when she turned red as a tomato upon my inquiry of her whereabouts last Saturday."

"Really? I made her blush?"

"Yes, stud muffin, you did," I laughed. "And mind you, she's the aggressive type. I haven't seen her act this way since...well, since ever. Care to share what went on between the two of you that day? She never gave me a single detail."

He grinned, tracing his lips with his finger. "Then I don't think I will, either."

I punched him lightly on the arm. "Boo, no fair."

"It's none of your business, sugar bear."

Sitting down beside him on the bench, I put an arm around him. "If you want an honest answer to your question earlier, Raven, my roommate wouldn't dig you as much as she does if she didn't find you attractive."

"Well...thanks." A small smile appeared on his face. (Aww, I sense _someone_'s turning into a softie!)

I spotted the clock on the wall behind him. Thirty minutes to showtime. Which reminds me..."Hey, Raven, have you seen Jeff Hardy today?"

"Nope. Why?"

"It's half an hour 'till the show starts! Everyone should be here by now."

"Christy," he explained, "that kid's _always_ late. We're all used to it; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't show up again today. The only reason Jarrett's keeping him around is because the crowd loves him. Shame, though...he's got talent, just not the drive."

"On that note, I gotta go!" I said hurriedly before picking up my gym bag and running to the parking lot as fast as my high-heeled boots could take me. Let's see...Jeff's apartment is a ten minute ride from here. I've got over thirty minutes since my segment with Raven's not until mid-show, so I think I can make it. I hopped onto my motorcycle, jammed on my helmet and sped off.

_Knock, knock._

A messy-haired Jeff in nothing but baggy black denim pants opened the door. "Yeah?"

"Girls absolutely _hate_ it when a guy is late," I hissed. "I didn't dress up like this for nothing."

"I was planning to pick you up _after_ the show. I'm not feeling well enough to wrestle---"

Before he could say anything else, I crushed my mouth against his, wrapping my legs around his waist as he staggered backwards into his apartment and onto his leather couch with me on top of him. He slithered his hands around my back and coaxed my lips apart with his tongue. After a good five minutes, I reluctantly got up. "_Whew._ Feeling better, honey?"

He nodded silently, his jaw hanging open.

"Good, 'cause you're going to wrestle tonight." I grabbed him by the wrist and led him out the door. "And this time, _I'm_ driving."

We decided to take his blue and white Corvette to the show. I threw him a clean black TNA shirt from my gym bag and inserted the key into the ignition.

"Jeez, woman, you sure give a new meaning to the word 'go-getter,'" he said as he put on the shirt.

"Thanks," I laughed. "Of course, I'm only this way when I see something I want," I added, eyeing him meaningfully.

We reached Universal Studios in record time. "Amazing! Jeff showed up today!" Christian exclaimed as we walked in, causing everyone who saw us to erupt in cheers and some to gasp in shock. Raven emerged from his locker room and laughed at the sight. I could see Mr. Jarrett in the corner with a pleasantly surprised look on his face.

"Well, good job, Christy!"

I turned to him, confused. "Damn, Jeff, how long have you been out?"

-o-

"Is it just me," I mused, leaning on the open doorway, "or did the ladies love you even more tonight?"

Jeff didn't have any time to put on body paint tonight, and I could tell from the crowd reaction that they obviously liked him better that way. He laughed and looked my way. "I'm sure you know that there's only one girl I want to please."

I strode inside, my boots making a _clickety-click_ sound with each step, and took the bottles of body paint lying on his locker room dresser. "If you really mean that, you'll let her have the-ese," I told him in sing-song, waving the bottles.

"But..."

"Come on, Jeffykins." I pleaded with puppy-dog eyes.

He sighed in defeat. "Oh, fine."

I giddily made my exit and picked up my bag from my locker room, safely stashing away the paint before walking back to his. He put an arm around me and walked with me to his Corvette. "So where are you taking me tonight?"

"Well, I was supposed to cook for you, but you dragged me here before I could get started..."

Really? That's so sweet. "You were gonna cook for me? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"It's kind of hard to talk when a girl is on top of you on the couch with her tongue in your mouth," he said, laughing, "especially if that girl is irresistibly hot." He switched the radio on (Pearl Jam was playing) and stepped on the gas.

"Oh, stop it," I giggled. "So, again, where are you taking me?"

Soon enough, he stopped in front of a quaint little Italian restaurant. "Stay here," he said. "We're getting take-out...I doubt they'll let me eat there wearing this," he explained, motioning to his baggy jeans and black TNA shirt.

"You're hot no matter what you wear, Jeff." And hotter when you're not wearing anything, heh-heh.

He grinned at me and walked towards the restaurant. From my seat in the car, I watched as he talked to a waiter inside. I watched as a number of girls between twelve and thirty-five flocked to him and asked for his autograph. (With much satisfaction, I relished the fact that none of them had had their way with him in a locker room.) In about fifteen minutes, he emerged with a number of large paper bags and a bottle of wine.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." He stashed the food and wine in the backseat.

---

We gazed up at the stars, both of us lying on the hood of his car. He'd stopped on a grassy knoll overlooking a glassy lake, and we ate pasta and drank wine while enjoying the view.

"I like stopping here when I have the time. Whenever I'm here, I get inspired to write poetry."

I looked at him as he continued to gaze upwards. "You write poetry?"

He nodded.

"Well, can you read me one?"

"Uh, no," he laughed. "Someday, when I'm not this embarrassed about it."

"Oh, boo."

A few moments passed in oddly comfortable silence. I snuggled closer to him, my open palm laying on his chest and my head on his shoulder.

"So tell me," he asked softly, "what's the real reason?"

"What reason?"

"You know, why you haven't been with a guy in so long. I'm not buying into what you said about 'just not feeling like it.'"

I sat up suddenly and shivered. This was a hard topic to talk about...I hadn't opened up about it to anyone but Ashley. It's been over a year, but the wounds still stung. My eyes scanned the lake ahead. "Jeff, I don't know if I should..."

He wrapped me in his arms. "I won't force you, but I hope you'll open up to me one of these days. Right now, I'm not even sure if you take me seriously..."

"I do, Jeff." I let out a sigh, and I could see my own breath coming out as fog due to the cold weather. Maybe burying the past isn't the best way to deal with it. "I...my last boyfriend and I were together for three years. He worked as a stunt double in the movie industry. His job was very physically taxing, and he relied on a lot of pills." I could feel Jeff's arms tighten around me. "I came home from a photo shoot one day to find him sprawled out on the floor. He had no pulse." I shuddered at the memory. "The autopsy revealed that Derek had died of a drug overdose."

"So that's why you..."

"...said what I said the first time I met you," I finished, my voice now shaky with emotion. "I used to take them, too, when I started wrestling, but after his death I quit cold turkey. It pains me when I see other people taking them on a regular basis."

He kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry, Christy."

---

Yellow streetlamps barely lit the sidewalk as he walked me to my apartment. We stopped at the entrance of the building. "I guess this is good night," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You mean you don't want to come in? Ashley's at an autograph signing in New York today, so we've got the place all to ourselves."

He shook his head and gave me a little smile. "I don't want to overwhelm you."

"But I'm fine," I managed weakly, attempting to smile back.

He took my hand in his and kissed it. "Another day, sweetheart." He'd never called me 'sweetheart' before. "I want to make it good for you."

I think I get what he means now, and for that I felt better about opening up to him. Unlike other guys, Jeff wasn't pressuring me for sex, and in my eyes that made him more desirable. "It couldn't get any better, Jeff, but okay," I replied, hugging him. "Thanks for a great first date."

"You too."

"And...thanks for understanding."

"Anytime." He smiled.

I watched from my window as he got into his Corvette and waved as he drove away. If I experienced love at first sight revealing the man behind the paint, it was at this moment that I started to feel myself truly, genuinely falling for who Jeff Hardy was inside.


	8. I Love the Holidays

**Chapter 8: I Love the Holidays**

There's this song that says _"About boys, there's something I should have known: They're like chocolate cakes, like cigarettes -- I know they're bad for me, but I just can't leave them alone."_

We TNA girls are all hooked on _the vice_. You know, the one that is neither chocolate cakes, nor cigarettes.

"Hey Christy," Trinity asked, "are you and Raven, like, together?"

"No," I laughed. Ashley would kill me if we were! "We're just friends, and besides, he has a girlfriend."

"Ooh," they all cooed.

Trinity finished lacing up her boots and sat down beside me. "Who is it?"

"You're gonna have to ask him yourselves, girls," I replied, grinning.

"Oh, fine. But how about you, are you dating anyone?"

"Well --"

"Actually," Gail interrupted, "I saw her with Jeff Hardy a few times. If I remember right, I believe you were the reason why Jeff even showed up to TNA two weeks ago."

They all eyed me with predatory grins.

"Do tell, honey," Jackie prodded.

I shrugged at the lot of them. "He's already seeing someone," I replied. Technically, it's true! I just don't plan to tell them that that somebody is _me._

Trinity started talking about her own relationship, and while we were all really happy for her, I couldn't help but notice that Jackie was looking a little glum; a stark contrast from her usually cheery demeanor. She and I stayed behind as the other girls left to get some food.

"What's wrong, Jackie?"

She looked up at me and blinked. "Huh?"

"You're looking a little down today."

"Oh." She smiled sadly. "It's nothin', really, just that all these love stories are making me a little nostalgic."

I sat down on the bench facing her. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's not that I'm jealous of y'all, but I hardly ever get to see Charlie anymore. The wrestling business gets real tough sometimes, especially if your someone's working for a rival company."

"You miss him?"

"That I do."

-o-

"So have you two...you know, done it yet?"

I elbowed Ashley's side and giggled. A matronly lady glared at us from a distance, but I didn't really care.

"Nope. Easy, Christy, we're only on our second date. Our third date's this week, though." She pulled out a sparkly purple dress from the rack and held it against her.

"Oh, the big sex date!" I exclaimed, quoting the cast of _Ally McBeal_ in that episode when she had a thing with uber-hottie Jon Bon Jovi. I pulled the dress away from her and put it back, shaking my head. Neiman Marcus is great, not to mention the best place to bond with your gal pals, but please. That dress was_ so_ not her.

"Must _everything_ be about sex? You're so horny."

A little girl ran by right then as her mother walked behind her, narrowing her eyes at us.

"Am not," I argued once she was out of earshot, "I'm just curious as to how you and Raven are doing!"

She pulled out a light pink blouse. "Well, we're just fine. We're taking it slow."

I couldn't help laughing. "He must be bouncing off the walls right about now, the poor thing! And that blouse -- eww."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes and put it back. "Well, what should I wear to this TNA Christmas party then? Did they specify any attire?"

"Not really. How do you want to look?"

"Fun, flirty--something that Scotty can't resist!"

And there it was, just a few meters behind her. The dress. _The_ dress. Green silk, plunging neckline, with a skirt that ends just above the knee. With the right Manolos, she'd be stunning!

I pointed to it. "Look no further, my friend. I think we've found the one!"

-o-

It seems everyone had a date tonight. Raven had Ashley, I had Jeff...one of the few who went stag was Jackie, and it kind of broke my heart to see her like that.

We all fell silent as Jeff Jarrett took the stage. "First off, I'd like to thank y'all for coming," he began, beer mug in hand. "I'd also like to take this welcome a special guest, Miss Ashley Massaro," he said as the spotlight fell on Ashley, who was sitting on Raven's lap. (That green dress was totally working!) She smiled and blushed a little as we all applauded. "Girl, everyone on our roster can tell that you've made Raven a very happy man," he added, laughing. Raven flipped him the bird, but he was laughing with the rest of us. The men hooted and catcalled in praise.

"Anyway, let's get down to business." The crowd became quiet. "Miss Massaro, we know that your..._present organization_," Jarrett cleared his throat as and the rest of the TNA roster somehow managed to politely hide their dislike towards the WWE, "is paying you a large sum of money. However, we at Total Nonstop Action Wrestling, most especially Raven" -- hoots from the boys in the crowd -- "would be more than happy if you would work for us instead."

"Now, I can't promise you a bigger salary than what they pay you in the company you're currently working for, but what I can promise you is a decent amount of face time every week, great backstage camaraderie, and the assurance that we won't fire you anytime soon because of 'budget cuts' or any of those lame excuses." Some of the former WWE Superstars there booed at the mention of 'budget cuts,' and I myself couldn't help but scowl. "We're a meritocracy, Ashley, so you don't have to worry about sucking up to anyone."

"Cutting to the chase," he continued, "I would like to offer you a one-year contract with TNA Wrestling." The room erupted in cheers. Hell, even Gail Kim was smiling. "You don't have to answer right away, Ashley," he called out over the cheers, "I'll give you a week to decide."

It took her just one look at Raven to come up with a decision. "I don't need a week, sir. I say, hell yeah!" She pumped her fist into the air.

We all cheered and applauded even louder, and I walked over to hug her. "Ash, I swear, you will not regret this decision!"

Mr. Jarrett grinned. "Well, I'll drink to that!" He raised his glass. "Ladies and fellas, a toast to Ashley Massaro, the newest member of the TNA roster! Welcome to the TNA family, girl!"

"Cheers!" we yelled.

Seated at one table were a lot of the TNA girls, Jackie included. She was laughing along with them, but you could easily see the sadness in her eyes at just one glance. I ran and took her by the wrist. "Come on, Jackie, I have something to show you!"

"What the hell...?"

I half-dragged her through the crowd towards the stairs. "The view is great from up here, I swear! You should see it!"

"I don't much care for stargazing. Not at a Christmas party, anyway."

"Trust me," I giggled, "you'll love this."

At the top of the stairs, I stopped her and fixed a loose strand of her hair. She looked great tonight---her hair was in a pretty up-do, and she had a cute light-blue dress on. This would work perfectly!

I opened the door to the top of the building and rushed out, turning back only to wait for her. "Well, come on!"

"Honey, are you drunk or somethin'? What is up with you?" She slowly, reluctantly followed me. And then she saw what I was talking about.

"Oh my God!"

Right smack in the center of the top of the building was a candlelit dinner, a violinist in a tuxedo...and Charlie Haas, carrying a big bouquet of roses.

"No one should spend Christmas alone," I told her with a grin. She ran and embraced him.

"Wow," he gasped, eyeing her up and down. "You look...amazing."

"She's definitely worth a day off, isn't she?"

He looked at me and laughed. "She certainly is."

I smiled and waved as I left them to go back down the stairs.

-o-

The drinking and merry-making continued as I made my way to Jeff. "This is one awesome Christmas!"

"You're telling me," he agreed, putting his arms around my waist. "Merry Christmas, baby, three days in advance."

"Hey guys!" Christian yelled. "Christy and Jeff Hardy are under the mistletoe!"

I looked up to see Bubba Ray Dudley holding mistletoe above us. "Damn," I laughed. "So our cover's blown?"

"I don't really care." He grinned at me, his green eyes twinkling.

"Good," I sighed. "Me neither."

"So may I have this kiss?"

I answered Jeff by setting down my champagne flute, wrapping my arms around him and locking lips with him. I could feel everyone's eyes on us and hear their cheering, hooting, and hollering, but like Jeff, I didn't really care.

"Well, well," Mr. Jarrett said over the microphone, "looks like we got ourselves a new storyline here!"

* * *

**A/N:** A short little Holiday bit, LOL. Beware the next chapter, ladies and gentlemen...towards the end, it gets kind of...lemon-y. :P


	9. Cold Shower

_A/N:_ Whooh, I'm nervous! I won't spoil things, but just so you know, this fic has made the transition to R-18. And if at any point you start to feel uncomfortable, feel free to skip it.**

* * *

**

**Chapter 9: Cold Shower (Ashley's POV)**

"Have I told you yet how hot you are in that green dress?"

"Yeah, like ten times," I laughed. "Don't worry, I love it when you do."

In an instant, Scott swept me up into his arms and carried me up the steps to his door. "I'll be doing this again one day, but next time you'll be wearing a _white _dress."

God, how does he _do_ that? We've been going out for a while now, and yet he can still make me blush like a schoolgirl! It's like he knows all the right buttons to push.

"Ooh, my hands sense that someone isn't wearing any panties..."

I smacked him upside the head. "You dirty man!" I squealed as the door swung open.

"Please, honey, you want it as much as I do! Scratch that -- it's impossible for _anyone_ to want it as much as I do."

"And for your information, I'm wearing Spanx."

He set me down on his sofa. Wow, just looking at his living room makes me so proud about helping him decorate it a week ago. I can't wait until Christy, Jeff, Christian, and Trish come over for Christmas dinner! (And again with the freaky realizations...in all my life, I have never decorated a boyfriend's house before.)

"So what do you want to do tonight?" he asked with a smile, handing me a glass of scotch.

I watched him light the fireplace. "Just hold me close tonight, Scott."

It was pure heaven, having both the fire and Scott warm me. His arms fit just perfectly around me. And his eyes...I have a fixation with those eyes. So dark and intense. They pierce right through me every time. I get this sort of flutter in my insides whenever I look at him, and that's been happening since the first time we made eye contact, which was at that bar on our first night in Tennessee. I absent-mindedly began twirling a lock of his wavy hair around my finger.

"Scott, I just remembered..."

"Yeah?" he returned in that sexy, gravelly voice of his.

"You write the stupidest things in that online journal of yours."

He laughed, not taking those eyes off of me. "Keeping the mystery alive, babe. Average guys aren't nearly as sexy as mysterious guys. Why do you think Jeff Hardy is so popular with the ladies?"

"I must say, that is true." I laughed, remembering Christy. We stayed like this, close together on the couch, quiet, for a while longer, when I began to yawn.

"Tired?"

"I am," I replied softly, staring into the fire.

That man sure knows how to make a girl feel like a princess. He carried me up the stairs and into his bedroom, which was far more beautiful than I remembered it. His bed is soft like a dream. "I could really get used to this."

"I could really get used to having you here," he said, smiling at me through the doorway. "I'll be back in a sec -- feel free to use one of my shirts. They're in the armoire to your left."

Randomly pulling out a white polo, I changed in record time, and fell asleep moments before I landed on the bed.

-o-

The sunlight slanted through the blinds to warm my face the next morning. I could feel someone's arms around my waist, which I instantly knew were Scott's. Apparently, he was too tired to change last night, because I could feel his dress shirt and slacks against me. Wait, we were _spooning_ last night and I didn't even know it? Damn, I wish I'd stayed awake a little longer!

I wish we could stay like this forever, as clichéd as that sounds.

He stirred within moments. "Four dates, not counting our first encounter," he breathed, "two sleepovers, and I still haven't gotten any. You drive me crazy, woman."

"You've been a very patient man, and I appreciate that." I rolled over to face him. Those eyes are incredibly sexy this morning, all half-closed and looking at me like that. "Hey, I didn't know you spooned."

"I don't. You're the only exception. And this was not how I planned things would go last night, my dear. Men don't bring women home to...spoon."

"There's sexiness in spontaneity, you of all people should know that."

He grinned. "I'm going to roll over and go back to sleep now. Don't speak a word to anyone -- if the boys in the locker room hear about how we spooned and I didn't get any action, they're totally gonna think I'm gay." And he dozed off before I could say anything.

Reluctantly, I got up off of the bed and left the room, but not without casting one last glance at his sleeping form. I should really be careful around this guy -- he's sexy even in his sleep.

His armoire had some towels in it, so I grabbed one and headed for the nearest bathroom. Before I entered, though, I walked into an adjacent room, where I knew he kept a sound system. Once I plugged it and switched it on, I flipped through the stations until a nice Corinne Bailey-Rae song was playing.

Since I'd started living on my own, I always had this habit of leaving the bathroom door open so that I could hear the music from outside better. Of course, I never do that when there are guests over, but I really liked the song that was playing today. The polo and my underwear were on the floor in seconds, and I stepped into the shower, setting the water temperature to "cold." After a night of spooning with the man, Heaven knows I needed one desperately.

I welcomed the spray of cold water on my body, the droplets forming on my bare skin. I reached for the bottle of lavender-scented shampoo which I'd left during my last visit, when I helped him decorate his house. I didn't sleep over that time, but I wanted to bathe and change into something more comfortable before hanging stockings and Christmas lights with him.

Repeat, lather, rinse. Mmm, nothing like the smell of lavender in my hair. I've always loved moments like these, when you can just take your time and appreciate the little things. I'm alone, I'm indulgent, I love it.

I'd just begun washing off the shampoo when I sensed movement from my side. I turned, and there he was. Scott, still in last night's clothes (sans the shoes), staring at me. Through me. All over me.

He's never seen me naked before. And with his eyes all like _that_, I feel more vulnerable than I normally would. He just has this look, you know? He doesn't say a word, but it's all in his eyes, with that one look, so...smoldering and...wanton. I don't normally use those words, so you know I'm totally serious.

As shocked as I was, I made no move to cover myself up. He continues to look at me with that look, and in a matter of nanoseconds the cold water lost all its effect on me and I felt so. Very. Hot. And. Bothered. My heart rate tripled almost immediately, until I could literally feel and hear it beating rapidly inside of me.

He approaches, slowly. My breathing quickens with every step he takes towards me. He twists the shower knob and changes the setting from "cold" to "warm" to "hot" without breaking his gaze. He's within arm's reach, so by impulse I fist my hands in his shirt and pull him in beneath the water until my back is against the wall and he's pressing against my body. And I can feel him down _there_, and I have not wanted a man this badly in a looong time I unbutton his dress shirt as he trails kisses on the hollow of my neck, and Heaven help me before I completely lose control.

"You know you just ruined that shirt, right?"

"Yeah," he breathed into my ear. "Shut up."

I look up at him -- he's a good five inches taller -- and his eyes entrance me completely. He takes my hands, trails them slowly down his chest and on to his belt, which I unfasten. I tossed the soggy article aside. A heady mix of fresh laundry, aftershave, and lavender shampoo, plus the music coming from outside the bathroom, send me into overdrive. My heart's beating so crazily it's almost painful. I draw him in and kiss him, hard, passionately, as I grab his long, dark, wavy, dampened hair in both my fists. His hands are now cupping my breasts -- it burns everywhere he touches me. The water keeps getting hotter and hotter and soon everything is shrouded in mist. His pants drop to the floor, and he kicks them away, all the while not breaking the kiss. We're too impatient to take his shirt off of him, even though it was already unbuttoned, so we just leave it on.

Before I even know it, he pins my wrists above my head and takes one nipple into his mouth, and I shut my eyes tight and hope my knees don't give way, because he is doing nothing but making me ache between my legs. A big, hot, wet, throbbing ache. Even if I was standing up (and I wasn't sure I could for much longer), he'd reduced me to a whimpering puddle of need.

"Scott...do it. Now."

The words had barely escaped my lips when he obliged to my desperate plea, filling me...and he feels so good. I can't remember much of this part, but I remember I had one knee up, his hand on my thigh, and my ankle digging into his calf. I remember my moaning and screaming being drowned out by the roar of hot water bursting from the shower, and the beat of the music outside. I can't remember exactly what I was yelling, but I do remember that a lot of it was in Spanish. And I remember, oh do I remember, the moment when I came. Hard. I remember screaming his name, and desperately balling my hands into fists as I grabbed onto the dress shirt he was still wearing, and his big hands on my waist, and being too out of it to worry if I would wake the neighbors, and his lips on my lips and on my neck, and feeling so weightless, even with all that hot water pounding down on us.

And then there was the moment after. I was still reeling from it all. I tipped my head slowly back against the wall and closed my eyes, letting the droplets of water run down the length of my neck. My breathing was heavy, my chest rose and fell repeatedly under the weight of his. I felt around for the shower knob and shut off the stream of water. I opened my eyes to see the mist slowly begin to clear, but then closed them again as he continued to nibble and lick the hollow of my neck.

"Is it too weird for me to thank you for that?"

"Not at all," he mumbled into my hair. "And thanks, too."

I blinked my eyes open. "Interesting place for our first time together, don't you think?"

"You've never done it in a shower before?"

"I've done it in a lot of weird places, Scott, but I can't say that I've done it in the shower, no."

"Well hey," he breathed. "Like you said, 'there's sexiness in spontaneity.'"

He grinned at me, satisfied, and retreated to get the towel. The _only_ towel in the bathroom. He waved it in front of me and exited the bathroom with a flourish, leaving his damp pants and belt on the bathroom floor.

I will never look the same way at lavender shampoo again.

-o-

The sun was directly above our building by the time I'd returned to the apartment. Christy shut off the TV upon hearing the door swing open. She turned around and grinned.

"You're wearing the same clothes you did yesterday," she remarked with a grin.

"Uh, yeah."

She started giggling. "Is...is that a hickey?"

"Christy? Shut up."

I stormed into my room to avoid further interrogation, but she could see that I was making a miserable attempt not to smile.

"Come on, Ash!" I heard her muffled yell and persistent knocking at the door. "Deeeeeeetails!"

* * *

_A/N: _I put a lot of thought into this chapter because I wasn't sure how to go about the problem of Raven and Ashley's big...transition. To, you know, a couple that makes whoopee. Haha. So I decided to just go the full 180. This is a very big first for me, since this chapter is officially my first...er...lemon. (You know, full-on sex scene.) Be nice, you guys! 


End file.
